born creepy, chose practical

we cannot judge anyone

feelings added gently

underground economy

he wrote a hug in book form

plato in his neon era

slaying side b

nostalgia collapses into fine dust

smoky season

childhood “folklore”

tree behind window doing jazz hands

summer friends, winter memories

“clear” button on my savings

when rawr means wow

smells like naps and vhs tapes

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